


Headspace

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Number The Stars [21]
Category: Numb3rs, Stargate SG-1, Thoughtcrimes
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: <i>Thoughtcrimes/Stargate SG-1(/any), Freya McAllister, after an undercover mission in a joint operation for the Tok'ra she's offered the option to become a host.</i></p><p>Freya will defend her headspace till the ends of the universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headspace

Going undercover as Amita Ramanujan at Cal Tech was one thing. Her only objective had been to maintain her cover and not read any minds. Since her getting an education was a genuine endeavor, not part of a cover, she’d never had to worry about screwing up being a student, because she really was a student. Even going undercover as Amita at the SGC wasn’t so bad, because she really was a mathematician, and all she had to do was pass information back to her handler, which was easy to do, because she had regular dinner dates with her ‘mother’, who’d take her reports back to Harper.   
  
Going undercover as a Goa’uld alongside the Tok’ra was a hundred times more stressful than interrogating terrorists had ever been, because she was on an alien space ship with allies that were dubious at best, and she had zero back-up from the people she did trust. To make matters more complicated, she was undercover aside a Tok’ra operative who was also named Freya, although her symbiote’s name was Anise, and Anise was in control basically all of the time, so calling her Anise in her own thoughts was the only way to stay sane.  
  
Freya had thought that not listening to people’s thoughts on a permanent basis was hard.  
  
Listening to someone else’s thoughts constantly was exhausting. Freya reached the point where she didn’t even have to be looking at Anise to hear her thoughts (because she had to know how a Goa’uld would respond, needed Goa’uld knowledge that Anise couldn’t speak aloud in the middle of conversations with Nirrti’s minions). As long as she knew where Anise was in the room, had some spatial awareness of her, she could hear what she needed to hear. (Anise thought Freya was an expert in Goa’uld language and technology.)  
  
Most days, Freya despaired of being stuck under the mountain, no windows, no sunlight, so air, no _space_.  
  
When she finally stepped through the gate and into the SGC, she couldn’t remember being more relieved, because being out in space was not the same as having space to move around in, because the cargo ship had been cramped.  
  
Anise and another Tok’ra whose name Freya didn’t remember came through the gate with her to participate in the debriefing with General Hammond and the rest of SG-1. Debriefings were something Freya could handle like a pro, because she was literally a pro. She was an NSA agent. Agents did debriefings all the time. Agents -  
  
“Hey, go take a shower, get some coffee,” Daniel said gently.  
  
Freya blinked. “Oh. Um. Right. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Ugh. She was still using the Goa’uld voice modulator. She switched it off, tugged it over her head (it had been fitted to look like a regular necklace) and gave it to Daniel.  
  
“I’m sure we’ll have to deal with Anise and Freya posturing till you get back anyway,” Daniel said. He added in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Freya has a crush on Jack.” Freya already knew that.  
  
“And Anise likes Daniel,” O’Neill said, clamping a hand on Daniel’s shoulder.   
  
Freya knew that, too.  
  
“Go, Dr. Ramanujan. Freshen up. We’ve got this.” O’Neill steered Daniel toward the conference room.  
  
Amita was grateful for the reprieve, but she also knew she needed to hurry. The marines in the locker room took one look at her and vacated immediately, and the other female base personnel who’d been waiting for the locker room to become the men’s locker room came flooding in as well. Amita showered, dressed, and stopped by the commissary to refill her mug of coffee, and then she headed up to the briefing room.  
  
Judging by the grim expressions on everyone’s faces when she entered, the debriefing was not going well.  
  
“Dr. Ramanujan,” General Hammond said.  
  
Freya took a seat between Sam and Daniel. “Sir.”  
  
“There’s something the Tok’ra would like to discuss with you.”  
  
“Was there a problem with my performance on the job?” Freya sat up straighter, ready to defend herself, because they’d gotten the job done, no hitches, no surprises.  
  
“Not at all,” Anise said. “In fact, we were very impressed with your skills. The Tok’ra could use an operative of your knowledge and talent.”  
  
“You want me stationed with you?”  
  
“We would like you to join us,” Anise said, “take on a symbiote.”

“No.” The answer was swift, immediate. Because sharing her head was not an option. Never an option. Freya’s time alone in her head was a precious commodity, and she couldn’t give it up. Not for the universe. Not anything.

Daniel winced. O’Neill looked amused. General Hammond knew the truth of Freya’s skills, though. He understood.

“But -” Anise began.

“You asked, and she answered,” General Hammond said. “That’s all I can give you. Now, Dr. Ramanujan, do you have anything to add?”

Freya took a deep breath, clenched her hands to stop them from shaking. “Yes. When I was on Nirrti’s server, I notice some lines of code that referred to some kind of breeding program. The Goa’uld equivalent of Punnett squares. I think she’s experimenting on humans again.”

After the debriefing, Sam caught up to Freya.

“Hey,” she said, “you all right?”

Freya nodded. “Yeah. Just - the thought of sharing my head -”

“I know,” Sam said, and she did know, having been forcefully occupied by a Tok’ra herself. “You want to talk about it?”

“No, I’ll be okay, really. I just - need to get some fresh air. I miss the sun,” Freya said.

Sam patted her on the shoulder. “All right. If you ever want to talk, let me know.”

“Thanks. I’m going to go topside just for a bit, all right?”

“I’ll have the SF’s page you if we need you.” Sam smiled, and then Bill Lee called her name, and she excused herself.

The ride to the surface seemed to take forever, but when Freya stepped out of the building and into the sun, she paused, tipped her head back, and reveled in its warmth.

She missed Charlie, missed his kisses and the comfort of being in his arms.

More than Charlie, though, she missed Brendan, because he knew her, he understood her, he wouldn’t have questioned her instant refusal of having another living creature jammed inside her skull, reading her mind and trying to share her body. He’d have cracked a joke, said something about snakeskin shoes and then, just to be obnoxious, sung the Scooby Doo theme song out loud (he really did know all the words, but he pretended to know only half of them to put an extra bit of annoyance in Freya’s day).

Freya wondered what she’d have to do to see him again.

The next day, Sam called her into the main lab. New job opportunity. Ancient outpost in Antarctica. No Tok’ra contact whatsoever. It sounded perfect.


End file.
